Little Boxes Hold Broken Hearts
by AmberKendsLacy
Summary: Olive Trubshaw believed her family dead for ten years, the blame of their deaths placed on the creatures her father had trusted.When the insidious plot that had been hatched a decade before finally comes into fruition,Olive will need more evidence than just blame to defend the Box Trolls from harm.But will she believe it, or will her pain push away what is right in front of her?
1. Chapter 1

It had been a cold night in Cheesebridge, the wind howling through empty streets as dreary rain spattered against the old cobblestones that covered the ground. It was not too late at night at this moment, but because of a recent collective mass hysteria that had taken over the town; everyone within their frightened frame of mind took it upon themselves and their children to stay inside, and stay safe.

Except for one, lone trench coat swathed figure that trudged their way through the lifeless streets, head down in desperation to keep their face dry from the unforgiving rain. Though they could not help themselves at times to peek out from the rim of their hat to see the houses that crowded the street, the warm light peeking through heavy grey curtains telling of a happy and safe home, a look of yearning passing through their features that causes them to walk faster every time.

It was getting to closer to curfew now, and if they weren't careful, they would be caught.

Though whether they were caught by the Red Hats or the Box trolls it made no difference, both were bad news.

Box Trolls were of course the creatures that were causing such empty-street, house-filled hysteria amongst the masses, whispers trailing from one gossiping wife to another of what they did to careless parents and their innocent children in the cover of night. Of course these whispers had been around for as long as anyone could remember, it was just natural for one to fear what they do not understand or have actually seen with their own eyes.

But the statements that were once meant to put fear in the hearts of misbehaving children at bedtime had now evolved so suddenly into frightened whispers, and mothers clutching tighter to their children's shoulders, afraid to let them play before dark for fear that they would never be seen again. Something was riling these people up more than usual, and now all it seemed it would take was for one incident to confirm their fears, then the town would truly be lost to their Box Troll fear frenzy.

The Red Hats were a culmination of all these fears and theories, a collection of men that would go out into the night and capture the creatures before they could harm any parent or child. Naturally these men were placed in nearly the highest regard, the top place belonging to those of the White Hat society, best known for giving Cheesebridge its name and their fancy ways.

It was because these Red Hats were so nearly higher up on the social ladder, (at least higher up than the figure walking through the streets knew they would ever be,) that they had the authority to lock up those that refused their order of curfew, the exact reason why the figure was now walking so fast that they could feel the pull of the muscles in their legs. Being locked up by The Red Hats was worse than any kind of lock up by the law enforcers, since most people in the public jail were released into the sunlight. Those that were caught past curfew by the Red Hats however, not so much.

After passing many houses and avoiding the Red Hats motor cars as best as they could, trying to hold back their coughing as the vicious black smoke from the engines leaked into the already dreary night and strangled their lungs, they eventually arrived to their destination.

The house that was awaiting from the top of the steps was not shout inward like the others, the lights that made it seem so warm and friendly shining out without any curtains to stop it. This already giving the outward representation that whoever was the master of this household, did not fear the dreaded fate that came from the Box Trolls. And certainly, the figure reflected as they climbed up the last of the rain covered steps and wiped their shoes dry on the welcome mat, that was true.

A series of secret password knocks later and the door was opened to the figure, whom after finally getting out of the cold; shed themselves from their second skin of wet trench coat and wide brimmed hat to greet the one that had let them in.

As the weather protection guise was discarded, it revealed the young lady it had been hiding underneath. She looked no older than sixteen; her build best described as thin as a rake, and she not all that attractive, though that was to say she wasn't completely ugly either. Mostly it was because of the always cautiously glaring expression on her face that she used to guard herself that she was found to be unpretty yet pretty.

With her wild brown hair that she had managed to strangle back into a tightened ponytail and vivid green eyes, she was nearly an exact replica of the man whom had let her in. (Except she was female of course and he had a rather bid moustache that twitched when he was amused).

This would make sense, given that it was her father.

"Ah Olive I was wondering when you'd be getting back," He exclaimed, his tone showing that he was neither joking nor angry, but actually genuine in his statement since it was clear that he would be a great deal more worried if she had been a second later than usual.

It was because of his voice that seemed to show such happiness at a time when the teenager had begun to think had been supped from this town that her glare melted into a relieved smile, showing some of the pretty that she had managed to inherit from her mother.

From her father's arms came a gurgle and giggle of delight, the voice being so small, but then again that best suited the source of it. For in her father's arms was Olive's only little brother, a small baby that looked close to a year old since his brown hair now covered his head and his eyes shined the same color as his sister and father's.

His small hands reached out to her, and she gladly takes him from the arms of her father to wrap him up in her own, whispering a small apology to the baby that she was so cold form the rain and the night winds before she looked back up to her father.

"Sorry I'm so late; I had to stay at the seamstress' for some extra pay," Of course when the teenager said 'extra pay', she really meant the one silver coin more than usual that she places in her father's hand, which sometimes didn't feel worth the effort of nearly being snatched up by the Red Hats, but for some reason she does it anyway.

The teenager walks quickly through the house, which was small yet homely, and places her little brother in his small cot to play with his few toys that she had sown back together so many times they had become patchwork creations. She tightens her already tight ponytail and starts to ready dinner for them all, stopping only when she feels a brush on her leg.

She looks down, and sees the one thing that was always causing her so much grievance lately that she doesn't sleep at night anymore, instead she stays awake and constantly thinks of what could happen to her family because of it. It's what has been making her glare more often; making her worker later at night only to come home and see the sadness in her father's eyes because he thinks that she just 'doesn't understand'.

What she sees is a Box Troll, specifically one that her father named 'Fish'.

Her father says that they aren't the monsters everyone from Red Hat to Baker thinks they are. That in reality they are builders, genius inventors like himself and don't mean any harm. Olive wants to believe him, really she does, but it's not a crisis of faith in her father that keeps her up at night.

It was the thought that if they were caught housing Box Trolls of any kind, or even uttering a word of positivity about them, that she would never see her father again because of it. Her brother would be taken from her and she, she would be left alone, more alone than she had ever been when her mother died. The teenager had tried to tell him before, trying to convince him that this is not the right thing to do, that her father, her and even the baby were in danger every time they entered the house, whatever their intentions may be.

But of course, he never understands.

"They are our guests here Olive Trubshaw," he would say (using her full name always meant he was particularly serious), gesturing to the Box Troll he had been defending (who was chewing on a boot at the time, but that was nothing when accompanied by everything else she had seen them do). She would beg, and plead and even at one point yelled (something she felt particularly bad over) but nothing ever worked, so now she had just decided to at least try to get used to them, while also praying every night that they would not be her father's downfall.

So instead of complaining as she usually did, Olive gave a small wave to Fish before returning to her work in the small table that was used as a Kitchen. Certainly Olive had not seen any blood thirsty behavior from this Box Troll at least, mostly he usually attempted to steal meat balls from the table while she was trying to cook, an action she would react by glaring halfheartedly at him for before rolling her eyes, trying not to show that he was growing on her day by day, bit by bit.

When dinner was made and they all sat down to eat, (the Box Trolls sometimes staying for a bite before going back to wherever they lived), there would never be an actual quiet moment. The table was always open to discussion, theorizing and planning between Olive and her father, the baby sometimes interceding with gurgles of opinion that made the sixteen year old laugh.

Her father knew she was no longer a child, and so felt as though she should have a voice to speak and an opinion to have as a young lady. And she would revel in it with complete enjoyment and a constant quest for enlightenment, having conversations that she wasn't allowed to have anywhere else, since everywhere else told her to hold her tongue and that no one wanted to hear her.

But her father's ear was always one she could speak to about anything, and it made her feel safer than any sense of the word that a Red Hat could ever falsely supply.

Certainly, unlike elsewhere in this town there was no talk of her getting married, her father feeling that if she said she was not ready, then that was exactly the end of that topic. However, there was also a part of the teenager that knew he felt that if she left now, there would be no motherly figure for the baby to learn empathy from as he grew from a small seedling to a full sprout of a boy.

He never said so aloud, but she did sometimes see on nights when he was particularly tired, how much he missed her mother. It was that expression more than anything, that made her determined to stay and keep this family together.

* * *

><p>Every once in a while though, when the night seemed its darkest and the baby was fast asleep, there would a sudden and loud knocking on the front door. If any Box Trolls were in the house they were snuck out the window that faced an unused alleyway, and Olive would be ordered to her room and to not come out for any reason until this visitor had gone. Being a good child at heart Olive would do as she was told, but that did not mean she wouldn't sneak out every so often to peek at who this visitor was that always had her father on edge before the first knock on the door even ended.<p>

The red hat and coat always was the first thing she saw as this man took a seat at their table, sometimes taking a few moments to peer around the room as if he were looking for something that he never had the evidence to prove before sitting down. The second thing would be his voice; the low and almost rumbling tones that made her insides feel a little sicker than normal, and made her flesh crawl more than any Box Troll would be capable of making her feel.

This man was Archibald Snatcher, head of the Red Hats and major exterminator of Box Trolls in all of Cheesebridge. His face suited his voice, gaunt yet round with a crooked nose that seemed to tell of every fight he'd once had where a punch had created every crook. His eyes were small yet sneaky, as if he could see around every corner before he had even turned to face it. His mind was clearly always on the future, his plans for that future however, never seemed to spell anything good for anyone but himself.

What this man wanted with their family, Olive was never truly sure, since she only ever heard snippets and sometimes a raised voice, which was usually always from Mr. Snatcher. One time, about a few months before this point, a younger Olive had been peeping around the corner the lead into her room, sneaking looks at their conversation while eavesdropping longer than she ever had before. What she heard made her feel sicker than she ever had before.

"- I will not do what you ask of me!" That was her father, his stance more defensive yet confrontational than she had ever seen it whenever she stood before him in her life. Mr. Snatcher was never threatened by him however, and would instead just tower over him, usually silent before turning and leaving with a sharp bang of the front door. This time however, there was a look in his eye that had no been there before. The small irises of his darting very quickly to the corner that Olive was hiding behind, almost causing her to gasp and jump from fear as she hid from his sight.

"How old is your little Olive again Mr. Trubshaw? Nearly of age to be married off soon I'd take it?"

Sensing the subtlety in his comment was the worst thing that Olive reckoned at that moment that she had ever done. It was at this time, as she hid behind that corner and watched as her father seemed to deflate slightly at the veiled threat towards his only daughter, that the young girl decided that she was never, ever going to marry. Never going to leave her father's side for as long as she knew she had a say in it. Despite what the popular opinion of Cheesebridge liked to state otherwise.

The grotesque man then, with a turn on his heel and a grin that showed his missing and yellowed teeth, left with yet another sharp bang of the door closing behind him. As soon as he was gone she dropped all pretense of her father at least having the blessing that she hadn't heard that, by running from her hiding place to find comfort in his arms like she had as a child. Olive whimpered to him then as she felt the safety of his arms holding her tight, that she did not want to be married, and that even if she did, she certainly did not want to marry Mr. Snatcher.

"You won't," He assured her, then after an hour's more coaxing and promises that the frightening man was not going to now steal her away in the night while she slept, Olive allowed him to carry her back to bed like he use to when she was a little girl, leaving her only for a moment in her bed as he fetched her little brother from his coat and placed him next to her. Then, her father's hand gently touched her brow as he whispered a tune she only vaguely recognized Olive eventually fell asleep, the small sounds of her brother's whistling baby snore helping her along the way with the strange little ditty her father was humming.

_Little Boxes on the hillside,_

_Little Boxes made of ticky tacky_

_Little Boxes on the hillside,_

_Little Boxes all the same…_

* * *

><p>It seemed like this sense of being on their toes, seconds away from being caught or something terrible happening, would continue on forever.<p>

But of course it didn't, of course it had to end.

That morning was like any other, she was awake earlier than everyone else, made breakfast for her father and brother, cleaned up the mess her baby brother had made that had once been that breakfast. Then got ready to leave for the seamstress that she was apprenticed to at the time, the one that sometimes paid her an extra coin should she waste more time there than with her family. On the last morning that this would ever be her routine (not that she knew it at the time), she kissed her little brother's small forehead and hugged her father tight.

"Be safe," She muttered, just a common thing that she always said before she left, since she always hated saying goodbye. Her father hummed in response and she was soon out the door, the sunlight that burned at her tired eyelids the moment she stood into it wiping her mind on any thought that her family wouldn't be anything but safe that day.

After a hard and thankless day's work with the seamstress, the sixteen year old left there much later than usual that night and she quickly started her trek home, the lights that escaped through cracks of heavy curtains helping her to see her way through the dark cobbled streets back to what she knew as the brightest and most inviting house of them all, the house where her loved ones were waiting for her. She had delicately stuck to the shadows when the Red Hat cars drove by, and eventually made it to what she knew as the front steps of her home.

Only, when she looked up the steps, there was no inviting glow of light that unlike the other houses was not trapped away from actual sight. Nothing but darkness seemed to be up ahead, shadows that were otherwise vanquished by the light, now hiding the home from her view. It was this one sight of what anyone else wouldn't notice, that had her heartbeat go from zero to sixty in a second.

Her footsteps were now shaken as she tried to scale the stairs, the usually short climb feeling like an eternity as her mind tried to both reasonably calm her down, and completely freak out as to what might have happened. As she climbed up she tried to see or hear out any evidence that she was just scaring herself and that everything is alright.

She tried to detect the music that usually flowed from inside, only to hear nothing but the hollow wind against her ears. She tried to see any familiar shadows of familiar Box Trolls in alleyways nearby telling her that they were sneaking in to spend the night, only to see nothing but the odd stray cat. When Olive finally reached the top of the steps, her heart that was once beating so fast, now leapt up into her throat in an attempt to escape this nightmare that was only just beginning.

The front door was just about hanging off its top hinges only, hanging open to the darkness that waited for her inside.

A hand delicately touched her mouth, trying to hide the quivering lip of fear as she managed to swallow it back and walk inside. The house was shrouded in so much darkness, that the teenager had to squint to see through it, her childish fears of the dark all the while playing in the back of her head like a never ending record she hated to hear but could never forget. And as she managed to pass the threshold of the front door and try to walk further in as her footsteps seemed to echo, a thought struck her like lightening.

This was the first time that she had ever felt like a stranger here, in her own home.

Something was wrong.

Suddenly, as soon as that thought looses relevance, a candle is lit in the kitchen, chasing some of the shadows away. Wanting to focus on the relief and ignore the oncoming dread that felt more like a storm in her mind, Olive walks quickly towards the inviting light as if it were a light house and she was lost at sea. She was expecting, or rather wanting it to really be her father at the table looking guilty at scaring her so badly and having some silly explanation like he needed the hinges on the door for something in his inventions, or that the baby was already asleep so he saw no reason to have the lights on and that he was sorry.

She just wanted it to be an occasion where nothing was wrong, and that he was sorry.

But it wasn't. It wasn't even her father that was sitting at the table, awaiting her approach.

No, what sat at the end of the table, where her father usually was when he was working on an invention or having those meaningful discussions with Olive, was certainly not the man she felt most safe with. Instead it was the man that gave her more nightmares in one night than any tale of the boogeyman or a Box Troll could ever manage. A man who had watched her come closer to the table much like a spider watches a fly come closer to its web.

Mr. Snatcher.

"Miss Trubshaw, I'm sorry to say that it is in such terrible circumstances that I greet your lovely presence tonight,"

The man stood from his seat, swiping the oddly crooked Red Hat from his head and held it against his stomach, his terribly ugly face attempting to pull an expression that could best be described between sadness and looking as though he had smelt something rather bad recently. But that was not what Olive cared about right then, and instead got straight to the point, she so hated niceties after all.

"Where is my father? Where is the baby?" Olive only got more upset the longer the answer was not spoken. Mr. Snatcher looked as though he were now holding back a smirk, and instead looked down so he figured she wouldn't see it. But again, she didn't care, she just wanted her answer.

When she got her answer however, she wished from that point on that she had remained blissfully ignorant.

"My dear lady, I know it might injure your weak heart to hear this. But I'm sorry to inform you that your poor father and innocent infant brother have become victims of the dreaded Box Trolls."

At first she tries to deny it.

"They're… they're dead?"

But that doesn't work.

"I'm afraid so,"

She could feel her heart stop in that moment, while her brain tried to catch up and decode what he had said, and when it does, her grief takes over. Her knees fail her and she crashes to the hardwood floor, her hands gripping at her face as she screams bloody murder, every ounce of pain and sadness that could come from that one moment finding its way out of her lungs and voice box, and into the air.

Her blood curdling, heart wrenching scream echoes through the streets of Cheesebridge, cracking windows and deafening dogs with its dexterity. Every man, woman and child would later state that their bones felt rattled from the sound, tears forced to their eyes though at the time they weren't exactly sure why.

But Olive knew and from that point on she would always know why.

She told them to be safe, because she hated saying goodbye.

* * *

><p>That was the last time she ever stepped foot into that house, the property soon being bought and sold to another person of the town that she did not care to know since they certainly did not care about her. All of her family's possessions, at least those that she had not been able to take with her, were scrapped away. Her father's inventions, her brothers little shoes, even her first tooth. They seemed so inconsequential on the bigger scale, but knowing that they were now considered trash, destroyed something inside her all the more.<p>

She was taken to stay in a half way house for a while until one of the White Hats of Cheesebridge would finally bother to notice her and deal with the problem. It took two months, which was actually a relief since many people had told her not to bother with them, or that it might take two years before they finally got around to it. In any case, two months later she was visited in her room at the temporary lodgings by one of the White Hats, Lord Portley-Rind.

"Miss Trubshaw, how sad the circumstances are that we finally meet,"

Lord Portley-Rind bowed low, and since she doesn't have anyone anymore that knows she hates social niceties, she curtsies back for the first time. It feels degrading to her somehow, like the deaths of her family have tamed the way she had once been. However, this seems to make a good impression on him as he smiles back at her. Olive eventually sits back in her chair, the Lord himself not bothering to sit down since the available chairs were probably too dirty to him.

"Indeed this is a tragedy sir, which only seems to lighten somewhat at your presence," The compliment humbled him, which was of course its intention anyway. The conversation does not go very long as she was informed of her home being sold and everything that she didn't take with her being gone. It felt so finalized without even a word from her, as if this were all planned before it even happened. But then Olive realized that even if it weren't planned ahead of this tragedy, she still probably wouldn't have gotten a say anyway.

Thinking was now a terrible issue of hers, since every thought in her head seemed to now always lead back to the same thing. The knowledge that her family, was dead. It was so hard to really grasp despite it continuously appearing in her mind, and what was worse was that she wasn't completely sure why it was hard to understand in the first place.

Perhaps it was just the simple fact that apparently it was Box Trolls that had done this unspeakable crime to her and her family. The same Box Trolls that only ever really stole meatball off the counter when she was cooking, but otherwise did nothing to antagonize her father or herself, never seemed to be a threat to the baby. Nothing from her memories seemed to draw the conclusion or even slightly foreshadow that this was what they were planning.

A tear misplaced its way across her cheek, and she apologized to the White Hat Lord as she wiped it away. That to seemed to also happen frequently, some days she would seem fine, and then she just wouldn't be. Some days she couldn't manage to get out of bed, looking instead to the ceiling as though it would have the answers on what she should do. Others she would wake up and not remember what happened, and then she remembered.

Those days were the worst of all.

"Now Miss Trubshaw, I do believe we need to discuss your options of a future," Everything in her body froze on the spot, her eyes looking back to him like a deer caught in headlights as only one thing came to mind when the words options and future where mentioned. That one thing being the memory from a few months ago, back when her family was still there and her father could protect her, Mr. Snatcher standing over her father as he asks if she was 'old enough to marry' yet. And before she can really question anything her skin feels like it is crawling once again, but now she wants to crawl away with it and not answer this horrible question.

But she has to, because she is not a child anymore so it wasn't as if she could run away from it any more she could forget how the doors hinges squeaked while barely holding onto the wood. She swallows the memory back and answers with as much a confident voice as she can manage without crying again.

"I do not think that the possibility of marriage should be allowed into question my Lord, for I fear this tragedy will forever scar my ability to be a proper wife to any good sir in this town. Especially since there is a chance that since the Box Trolls love the taste of Trubshaw, there is a chance that I will be next,"

It's a lie, a horrible, heart cutting lie that made her feel a little sick inside, but still she tried to sell it with all the fake conviction she could cook up in the short time allowed. She bashes her eyelids, wipes the tears away, practically doing everything so she seemed so small and frail. Anything to get her away from the possibility of being married, especially since her father could now no longer chase the hyena like suitors away. It was up to her to do that now.

For whatever reason, whether it was because she fluttered her eyelashes at the right time or maybe he figured out her want to just be free from that nightmare while she was still grieving her family, Lord Portley-Rind nodded in agreement. For a moment when he didn't notice, Olive looked at him as though he had two heads, since she was certainly not expecting him to really fall for it. Still, it was pretty great that he had, as instead of the possibility of marriage, he seemed to have another proposition for her.

"My wife and I have just had a daughter of our own, Winifred. She will need a Nanny to look after her while I and my wife are off on important business,"

"I would love for the chance to be your new child's Nanny your lordship,"

Olive immediately caught on to what it was he was suggesting and agreed almost immediately, since it sounded so many fields better than being on the marriage market, where a certain red hated man would be waiting for her. A contract was signed and agreements were made before she was made to pack her bags and go with him to his manor in the centre of Cheesebridge. Her room was small yet on the highest floor of the manor, though thankfully it was not small enough that she couldn't fit her family's old bits and pieces along with her belongings.

What hurt the most sometimes was that when she looked out her window; she could not see her old home. Every building below her did look the exact same as the other next to it after all. Though there was a piece of thankfulness in her heart, since she already knew that if she could see it, all it would do as reminded her on how she could not go back. That everything she had every loved, had been taken in that one night, never to come back.

Olive sat silently on her new bed, her hands slowly rubbed at her arms, trying to rid the cold feeling that she had inside, though she already knew that this would not work to make it disappear. So she tried instead on looking around what was now going to be her new home for the next few years. But that of course, only seemed to make her feel worse.

A knock on the door stopped her from falling into another pit of despair, and Olive quickly made herself presentable before opening the door. The one knocking had apparently been Lord Portley-Rind, who looked rather troubled with the small bundle of material in his arms. Olive allowed him to quickly enter the room, and he generously did so, taking a moment to look around at her belongings himself before turning back to the young lady.

"Yes, it's all rather interesting," He murmured since he couldn't seem to think of anything to say, before the wriggling bundle he was holding so carefully gurgled, small pink hands reaching out from white material to try and grab a hold of his handlebar mustache. It was apparent that his Lordship was having trouble holding the baby, looking at it more as though it were a bomb that was about to go off than a small infant.

"Do you want me to hold her for you, your lordship?" The Lord seemed completely relieved that the teenager had said it first and carefully handed the small bundle of material and infant into Olive's hands, looking still as though the baby were going to explode any moment from the slightest of too forceful movements. Olive smiled warmly back at him to tell his lordship that he was doing just fine, before looking down at the child that would be under her charge for the rest of the near future.

The baby girl was a small thing, her tuffs of ginger curly hair, obviously a trait picked up by her father, sticking out along with her head and arms appearing out of the bundle. Bright greens eyes stared curiously back at her…the same look that she remembered seeing in her brother when she first held him.

Olive sniffed back a tear and strengthened the hold of her quivering lip. There would be no more crying, at least not when others could see it. The young woman knew already that this tragedy was going to rule the rest of her life, but she saw no reason to let anyone else know about it.

She would keep her composure, by locking her pain away to where no one could see it.

"Hello Winnie, my name's Olive, and I'm very pleased to meet you,"

* * *

><p><strong>Please review, constructive criticism always welcome.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

10 years later.

The streets of Cheesebridge remained just as empty on this night as they had been for years, the curfew by this point becoming just a part of life for the people of the town. As did the people's fear of the Box Trolls, which had definitely run rampant in their minds as a genuine and normal fear after the incident of the 'Trubshaw baby'. Children were locked down more tightly, watched at all time to make sure they never strayed from the covers of their beds to the dark world outside.

The very center of town was no different, the darkness of night hiding away most of the abandoned streets. If it were this way during the daytime, people would assume this town an ancient deserted city, it was that empty. There was no leniency anymore in allowing the smallest of light to escape from the curtains, leaving no small light to help as a guide through the streets, no sense of the warmth and happiness that might be behind those homes.

No one was just cautious anymore, they were more like fanatics. And what was worse, was that that was part of their usual routine now, always being on edge, always being afraid. Being always on edge and afraid made them unable to have time to question, to wonder or think about the environment around them. They feared because it was demanded that they should, and this society always gave in to demands.

From the center of town, in the highest building in all of Cheesebridge, there was a peak through curtains, a small sliver of light as eyes looked down to the darkness below. The eyes were small, belonging to a child as they searched through the night. The curtain was pulled back to its proper place after the sound of a reprimanding, yet gentle voice.

"Winnie, please stay by my side if you're going to be in here," The voice belonged to Olive, who had certainly grown in the past ten years, her features refined and now better suited to her face. Certainly she had grown into her looks at her current age of twenty six, only made better by the softness in her eyes when she looked down at the child she had been charged to take care of for the past decade. However when it looked to anyone else, those eyes would turn as cold and piercing as ice shards, making her features twist to one of hatred and guarded pain.

The child, who had also grown into a young lady, huffed under her breath before sitting by her Nanny, crossing her arms in aggravation. So annoyed was the child that didn't notice how much she acted like the paid carer, her attitude towards others being just as guarded as Olive's, though there was nothing for her to hide. Olive had noticed this herself however, and would take a deep breath of regret, wishing that she could have gone back in time to the point where the attitude was picked up, and instead influenced her with empathy instead of guarded pain and anger.

Still, that didn't mean the woman didn't find the child's actions somewhat amusing in an ironic sense. Olive hummed to herself as she quickly braided Winifred's wild red curls into two braids, a usual routine for the child's bedtime that by this point Olive could do it with her eyes shut, which she did. The past decade had given her a lot of time to be able to do things without even thinking about it.

The best of it was her sowing, which after all those years of being an apprentice and working hard to block out any wayward thoughts that she didn't want. After all those years of being an apprentice, she was now one of the best in her field, her stitches now perfect in alignment and pattern as she sowed, the action looking more as though her hands glided over the material before she was quickly finished.

This was a great profession to have, since it meant more pay in the sense of being a seamstress and repairing the dresses and suits of the lords and ladies of Cheesebridge. In the past ten years she had certainly had quite a bit of money passing through her hands and into her savings, quite different from when she had lived with her family as a teenager, where every coin was made with tears and the hardest work she ever did.

But Olive knew that it didn't matter how much money went into her pocket, it would never fill that hole in her heart where home had once been. So, instead she would ignore the hole, sowing whenever she wasn't looking after Miss Portley-Rind, the actions making her thoughts turn blank apart from focusing on the material, needle and thread. It made her feel whole sometimes, but that feeling would always pass. Still, it was better to Olive in her opinion to feel whole for at least a few moments instead of feeling empty all of the time.

Winifred stood from her seat and looked over the intricate sowing that her Nanny had been doing, seeing the stitches that seemed unbroken and going for meters down the material. The child suppressed a sigh of boredom and walked back to the curtain covered windows, wanting to take another peak, hoping to find the slightest corners or shadows that could be described at least as maybe Box Trolls.

The creatures fascinated the ginger girl, at least the rumors about them did. But she kept her fascination to herself whenever she was around her Nanny, since the briefest mentions of boxes alone seemed to make the woman very sad. Knowing that her Nanny's last name was Trubshaw and that many lords and ladies that were her father's friends often whispered behind Olive's back, Winifred decided that it probably wouldn't be the best idea to ask why.

Still, the girl couldn't help it if she wanted to just take a quick peak while her Nanny was too busy to notice.

The curtain was pushed back again, just in time for her to see the shadow of one of the creatures, and the small amounts of metal they left behind. Winifred gasped in excitement, which her Nanny noticed and answered back with a silent questioning look as to why she by the window again. The girl grinned innocently and backed away from the window, her mind meanwhile racing with thoughts of Box Trolls coming to get her in the night, and only one way to make sure that 'didn't happen'.

"I must go see father," She said aloud, which again was answered back by the Nanny, but this time with an exhausted sigh.

"Please don't bother your father Winnie, he's in a meeting with the other White Hats," But by the time Olive was finished talking, Winifred was already out of the room and down the steps that would lead to the meeting room where her father and his associates were discussing 'important business'. And by important business, it was more meant that they were snacking on the best cheeses in the entire town. Olive sighed quietly in aggravation and place down her needle and threads before quickly going after the child, having to pause for a moment though to try and take a breath so she could pursue.

Damned tight corsets, the bane of her existence and yet necessary to wear if she wanted to stay in Lord Portley-Rind's good graces. Every time she had to pause for a breath, it only reminded her how she had promised herself as a teenager that she would never wear the ghastly, trouble causing things. But then again, the older Olive that she was today had broken a lot of promises she had made herself, and had instead felt as though she became the very thing she hated.

Domesticated. A good pet or trophy for the lord and ladies of court to feel proud over, that they had apparently evolved 'such a boring wall flower into a wonderful rose', or something of that description. They spent years pricking and preening at her in the beginning, scolding her when she didn't curtsey just right or ate with the wrong fork at dinner parties. Every lesson that she learned to please them made her feel less like herself, but all of that wasn't even the worst part about it.

No, the worst part of all her training before this point to make her a 'proper' lady, was the whispers behind her back or outright proclamations to her face about their opinions of her father and that terrible night that changed her life. There were mutterings and speeches about how he had been a fool to not lock the door, which was why the baby was taken by Box Trolls in the night and never seen again. Say that he was foolish to pursue them alone, which was why he vanished to.

They would talk of him, as if they knew him better than she did herself.

And all the while she had to stand there, smile and pretend as though it didn't bother her at all. Domesticated did mean not putting up a fight.

They would mumble under their breaths sometimes of how much 'better' she was now that her father couldn't corrupt her mind with his strange ideals, such as her actually having an opinion in matters that concerned her. And when it was all over at night, while Winifred slept dreaming little girl dreams, Olive would stay up and attribute a tear to every horrible word, every mean statement said with the up most of ignorance imaginable.

She still cried sometimes, but only when they couldn't see as the darkness of their curfew hid it from sight.

Olive shook her head as she descended the stairs, trying to keep her mind on the present as Winifred suddenly appeared at the bottom, her father's White Hat in her hands though it seemed a might smudged by cheese on the very rim. The Nanny gave the child a quick look, and in seeing the defiant yet hurt expression crossing the girl's face she knew immediately that this could not end well.

"Winnie," The use of the girl's name was more of a warning not to do whatever it was she was thinking of doing. The girl didn't listen however, a common problem that she had; that Olive sometimes hoped would not be cowed away from the child by the ladies and lords as they had done to her in growing up. Winifred ran quickly up the stairs, the child knowing that because of the tightness of her corset that Olive would not be able to pursue at the same pace. So by the time Olive did manage to scale her way back up the stairs and into the room, it was obvious that it was too late.

The window was open, Winifred was glaring out it into the world beyond, and her hands were empty of any White Hat that she had been holding before. It took a few steps to reach the sight of the window, and see the white material of the top hat now off into the centre of the street.

"Winnie, what have you done?" The woman turned to the ginger child, who now seemed to actually grasp what kind of trouble she was in, and was about to go tearing off out of the room again. But before the girl could start even revving her inner engines, Olive grabbed at her arm to stop her and as quickly as she could possibly manage in a corset, walked quietly down the steps to the front door of the manor, clicking and flicking back all of the locks on the door before eventually managing to get it open.

Olive took a deep breath as she began to already feel the cold night air creep through the slightly opened door, trying to shove down a festering ball of worry and fear that for some reason had started to form in the pit of her stomach. Winifred wasn't struggling against her grip any more, and was instead now stuck to her side, looking out into the darkness where the shadows seemed to be constantly moving.

"It's okay," Olive assured the child in whispers, pointing out into the dark where thankfully not that far away a White Hat was laying on the ground, "Your father's hat is just there, we can go get it back, wipe it clean and he'll never have to know this happened,"

They walked out into the darkness together, hand in hand as it seemed what would usually take a few seconds to reach the distance that the hat was, was taking hours. But thankfully they managed to get there uninterrupted. At least they were undisturbed from their task until Olive was leaning over to pick up the precious top hat from the dirty ground, when she was disturbed by Winifred suddenly giving a squeak of fright.

Immediately standing to attention, Olive held the girl close to her and looked out into the darkness where Winifred was pointing with a shaking hand. But there didn't seem to be anything there, at least not at the first look. When the woman looked again however, she could see two lights that could best be described as eyes, looking at them. Winifred peeked through her shelter of Olive to see the eyes as well, and called out to it, her voice more fearful than before.

"Who's there?"

Expecting to see a Box Troll step into the street lamp (which was strangely still on despite it now being past curfew,) Olive stood in front of Winifred, her back and shoulders now squared and ready to defend herself and the child, despite the corset that was protesting that action. At least, she would draw attention to herself while the girl ran back to the safety of her home which was not more than twenty steps away.

In any case, it was very surprising that instead of the familiar build of a Box Troll stepping into the light, it was a boy.

He was as thin as a rake, and for some reason had a box with an egg symbol on it around his midsection and a strange headwear on that had lights attached to it on both sides of his temple, which would explain the strange lights that Olive had thought were eyes peering through the darkness. All at once the woman felt a sense of complete annoyance and embarrassment in her for being so easily fooled, and was about to scold the boy herself on him being outside so late after curfew (despite the obvious fact that she and Winifred were doing the same) and dressing as a Box Troll, when Winifred interrupted her.

"Who are you boy?"

He lifted a part of his headgear so that they could see his face better, but then again it was pretty dark out so Olive couldn't see anything anyway. The answer that he gave back was certainly more than just a little confusing.

"Boy?"

But neither Olive nor Winifred really had time to ask another question as suddenly to Box Trolls appeared on either side of him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him back into the darkness. Olive called out a very helpless 'no' and tried to run after them, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the familiar headlights of the Red Hat automobile, and instead went back to Winifred's side as they watched it chase the boy and two Box Trolls down the street.

"We have to go back inside, pick up the hat and let's go,"

They both turned to do just that, when Olive noticed that the Hat was not on the ground, but now in someone's hands. And thought she only had the help of the manor's open door and nearby street light to let her see who it was, Olive had a feeling that she would known anyway.

Mr. Snatcher, who looked not a day older but still somehow so much uglier than when Olive was a teenager, was holding the hat up for inspection, looking it over as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His crooked nose and beady eyes did not look at the woman and child as he first spoke, his rumbling and drawling tones still making Olive's flesh crawl as she pulled Winifred even closer to her than before.

"Someone's out past curfew, very dangerous,"

For whatever reason that Olive didn't want to think about, Winifred piped up from the woman's arms as they protectively held her aways from the creepy man.

"I saw a boy," At this comment the man finally looked at the two of them, his expression for a moment showing annoyance that the child had bothered to bring it up, which Olive replied with an intense glare and tighter hold around the girl. Still, the expression on his face then changed to fake confusion and nonchalance as he waved his hand dismissively.

"All I saw was filthy Box Troll monsters," He then looked down at them again, as if he were finally seeing who they were for the first time, and his demeanor once again changed to the one that society wanted him to portray to the young woman and little girl as he bowed low, his beady eyes however, never straying from Olive.

"Miss Portley-Rind, Miss Trubshaw, allow me to escort you home." Of course Winifred had to be her usual self and struggled out of Olive's over protective hold, turning away from the offer from Mr. Snatcher as she held her nose in the air, much like she knew she was allowed to do. Olive watched her all the while, a little amused that she would talk this way to such a frightening man, but also afraid of what he might do at being rejected.

"I can escort myself thank you," While the child's back was turned, Olive could see the look of anger cross his face before he looked back to the hat, and smirked almost evilly. It didn't take long for Winifred to guess that he was not going to give her the hat as he instead walked off towards the manor's front doors, his strides being much wider than the corset wearing Olive's or little girl Winifred's. He seemed to be mocking them as he talked to them both.

"How did this hat find itself, all the way out here?" He was definitely mocking them with his long drawl and smirk that already told that he knew how it got out here. Still, Winifred being her child-like self tried to come up with an excuse, the best one she could manage apparently being that the wind had somehow blown it out of her grip and down to the street below. Seeing a chance to mess with them more, Mr. Snatcher checked the wind flow by licking his finger and lifting it into the air as they walked up the steps.

"Must have died down, suddenly," He hisses the last word and once again Olive clutches the child to her as if he were going to snatch her away any second. He continued walking on and they tried to follow after him, Olive for the first time speaking in this whole situation to the Box Troll exterminator.

"There really is no need for you to come inside," Her tone was hardened, and she was hoping that he would just take the hint, give Winifred the hat and leave them both alone. But of course that was not what truly happened, as instead he only seemed more pleased that she had spoken to him, and grinned even wider so they could see his yellowing horrible teeth.

"Oh but as a gentleman Miss Trubshaw, I insist." He turned back around before Olive could think of a decent retort, opened the door and stepped into the manor's front foyer, his voice now echoing off the walls of the manor as he called out for Lord Portley-Rind. There was a rustle of noise behind the meeting room door before eventually his Lordship made an appearance, stepping out of the room to look down on who it was that had interrupted his 'important business'.

"What is going on?" At seeing Mr. Snatcher at the very beginning of the star case, Lord Portley-Rind seemed to get his answer. Olive, remembering her place no matter how much she would like to forget it as the others of the White Hat walked out of the meeting room to see what all the commotion was, curtsied low, her eyes however remaining on Winifred just in case.

"Apologies your lordship, I found something out on the street that belongs to you," Mr. Snatcher held out the White hat where it could be seen, and Lord Portley –Rind immediately went to fetch it back, only to be annoyed when it was obvious that the red clad man was not going to let go of it. There was some usual banter that went on between Mr. Snatcher and his Lordship on how exactly one receives a White Hat and all the responsibilities, plus benefits that were leased from it. All the possibilities of getting a White Hat seemingly galaxies away from what Mr. Snatcher were able to do, and what he was.

At least that was until Mr. Snatcher started mentioning something that Olive had never heard about before.

"Fortunately, we still have our little agreement don't we your Lordship? When I destroy every last Box Troll in this town, I shall earn my White Hat and join you in the tasting room," Mr. Snatcher had scaled the steps while talking of this agreement that was very new to Olive's attention, the red clad man looking into the room that just behind the other White hated men, where all different aromas of cheese was floating out.

This action was very much cut short by the door being slammed shut by the three White hated men, Lord Portley-Rind smirking to himself as he joined his fellow members at the top of the stairs, twirling his mustache with his finger as he usually did whenever he was being facetious to someone.

"Good Lord, not sure who should be more terrified, the Box Trolls or us!" The White hated men laughed with him for a moment as was socially meant, and then finally it seemed that the conversation went back to how the hat had managed to get outside in the first place. Mr. Snatcher grinned once again and turned back to Winifred and the still painfully curtsying Olive, his now amused once more as he looked down at them both. His Lordship however, was not as amused.

"I was told; the wind had something to do with it,"

Lord Portley-Rind looked down at the older woman and his daughter, a brief look of annoyance crossing his features as Winifred looked back to with the biggest apologetic eyes the small girl could muster on cue. When that didn't seem to work, she went for apologizing aloud instead.

"The wind eh?"

"Father I'm so-" She was interrupted however, by Mr. Snatcher once more as he bid everyone farewell, Olive once again feeling his eyes staring at her form as she continued to curtsy.

"-Sorry can't stay, too much work to do. Miss Portley-Rind, Your Lordship, Sirs, Miss Trubshaw, I bid you all goodnight. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again very, very soon." There was a moment of silence after he had back out of the front foyer and outside once more, the front door clicking shut almost silently (a far departure from what Olive remembered of his visits in her old home). However that was broken almost immediately when the Box Troll exterminator opened the door again, gave his head measurements for a hat, then finally left.

Olive had never been so glad to see someone finally just leave.

There was some more awkward silence as Winifred attempted to talk to her father about what she had done, tried to say that this was a perfect opportunity to talk about their problems as father and daughter. And when that didn't seem to work she tried to tell him of the boy that she and Olive had seen with the Box Trolls, but of course that was cut off by his Lordship and his White hated associates walking back into the tasting room and shutting the door behind them. Olive got to finally stand up from her painful curtsying position and patted Winifred gently on the back.

The older woman tried to comfort the child with words on how he would understand someday, but even Olive knew that it was falling deaf ears, so eventually she gave up and led Winifred back upstairs to her room where she was finally tucked into bed and read a story that for once didn't have monsters in it. It was only after Olive was sure that Winifred had brushed her teeth and was tucked in tight that she actually mentioned something to the child.

"Winifred, about the man that interrupted you father's meeting tonight," Olive looked back to the child, who was thankfully paying complete attention to her while she was talking, "He is not a good person to be around on your own, no matter what someone might try and tell you otherwise. If you ever find yourself alone with him at all, you call for me and I'll help you, okay?"

Winifred nodded in agreement, the woman could tell that she was taking it seriously due to the expression on her face, and after a nod of her own she bid the little girl goodnight and when to bed herself.

It was only as Olive had just laid her head down on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling of her room, where she had stuck pictures of planets and stars while his lordship and ladyship weren't looking nor criticizing her room, that Olive realized something she didn't know how she could have possibly forgotten.

Tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of the 'Trubshaw baby' incident.

Ten years since her family had been taken from her.

Then, like every anniversary before now, Olive found that she couldn't sleep.

* * *

><p>Olive hated the Trubshaw baby remembrance days more than anything else in the world. The woman didn't even know she could feel so much hate before the idea for the remembrance was first suggested. Her reasoning for hating this yearly exercise weren't just because it was a horribly tragic and personal moment in her life that didn't seem like something she would ever be getting over completely in the near future.<p>

It was more because they treated it like a festival.

Balloons, party games, even dress ups to repeat the horrid affair until it became nothing more than a money making opportunity to these people. It made her sick; it angered her so completely that she no longer had the words to describe her upset at such a horrid twisting of that day.

The worst part in it all however was not just that she had to go because Winifred always wanted to see it, but also because of the yearly reenacting and song singing of the occasion by the well known and apparently well liked (though Olive hated them with such a fiery passion, probably more than she did the festival itself) Madame Frou Frou.

Every year this strange woman that wasn't even from this town would tell the 'story', because that was all it was to her, a 'story' and not the worst moment in her life. And every year the story would be told completely wrong in Olive's opinion, (not that anyone ever cared to hear her opinion anyway).

It was even in the slightest suggestion that her father hadn't taken his son's safety in account one night and because of it, he and the baby were eaten by Box Trolls that angered her to no end. But still, Olive could never really decide what was worse about the song that Madame Frou Frou insisted on performing every year. If it was because the horribly descriptive explanations of her families end at the hands of Box Trolls, or the fact that they actually bothered to include her in the 'story' as well.

_Daughter Trubshaw was so sad_

_When she heard the fate of her brother and dad_

_So the little girl let out a mournful cry so loud_

_It broke every window in the town _

Every damned year, every time that verse would come up in Frou Frou's song she would feel eyes searching, waiting for her to feel embarrassed or sometimes even smile at being mentioned. But she wouldn't gave them the satisfaction of a reaction and instead glared holes into Frou Frou's skull. How could they even expect her to manage a smile at a song that was made about the horrid deaths of her family at the hands of what her father mistakenly thought were gentle creatures? How could she ever smile again when such horrible jokes were made at the expense of the dead?

Finally, just as every other year, the song ended and the crowd dispersed, Olive made her way to the back of the stage where Winifred would be waiting for her, talking admittedly about the show and how great she was in the main role of the Trubshaw baby, not seeing the pain that etched its way across the usually blank expression that her nanny would wear. In the meantime, whenever someone attempted to sell something with this festival's hands on it to either her or the little girl, Olive would shut them up very quickly with such a withering glare that made them feel as small as they should.

However, this year as Olive went to the back stage to retrieve Winifred once again, she was surprised to find that the child was not there waiting for her. Not wanting to look as fearful as she was inside, Olive started walking the path they usually did every other year in the hopes that maybe Winifred was just a few steps further ahead than her, because she had for some reason taken off without waiting for her first. For a time to Olive however, it seemed as though Winifred was nowhere in sight.

It took less than five seconds for Olive to feel as though she was going to have a heart attack. Just the thought of going back to Lord Portley-Rind and telling him that she didn't know where his daughter was, would most certainly have her discharged from his service. Olive knew she hanging on a thin thread as it was, what with the incident that happened last night, since it was pretty obvious that his Lordship was not happy with either her or Winifred.

And already Olive could see what would lie in store for her if she managed to get herself discharged from the Portley-Rind household. She would be homeless, soon penniless, and then she would be helpless to refuse any generous hands of help, at least that was how the society of Cheesebridge said it had to be. She would be helpless to refuse marriage of any kind, since she would only be further seen as ungrateful, and cast out altogether.

It would be when she was helpless that Mr. Snatcher would make his move, Olive knew that he was just waiting for the chance that she would be fired from her current place, she knew this since whenever he was around, she could just feel his eyes watching her, waiting for the screw up that would have her unable to get away from his 'generous proposal'.

Olive was walking faster now, fear edging its way onto her face as she was starting to become frantic to find even a glimpse of ginger hair. She was looking everywhere, searching every place imaginable, when suddenly she got that glimpse she had been praying for. And that glimpse was Winifred, running down Milk Street to the turning point where it became Curd's Way. Immediately Olive started to give chase, happy in the secret fact that she had decided to not where a corset that day, but that didn't mean she was able to keep up with the sprightly child.

When reaching the end of Curd's Way and accepting that she would need to ask for help, Olive stopped in her tracks as she saw the Red Hat factory overhead, thinking to herself on how unfair it was that just think about how you want to avoid someone, and then end up running into them. Olive started to walk past the factory, not wanting to ask anyone there for help as she figured that she'd run into Winifred at some point.

However it was just as she was taking another step that she saw Winifred again, with a boy. At first she wanted to immediately step in, until she realized that it was the boy from last night. With her interests peaked, Olive took a step back to hide behind some fence posts to watch what was happening. For some reason the boy and Winifred started running, and it was only until Olive looked up that she saw what she was quite sure was Mr. Gristle from the Red Hats falling practically out of the sky and attempting to grab them both as he fell towards them.

For a moment Olive just watched this go on, mouth open a little in surprise and confusion. The strange boy and Winifred thankfully got away just in time by opening a man-hole cover and jumping down to the sewers below. Mr. Gristle however landed a few second to late as his face became acquainted with that same man-hole cover, the sight of it having Olive bit her bottom lip in sympathy pain.

Not two seconds after this had occurred, the other Red Hats, including Mr. Snatcher went outside, talked for a bit, and then went back into the factory with the clearly unconscious Mr. Gristle. This smelled of suspicion to Olive, and she quickly thought herself up a plan on what to do next.

Olive was thankful that she had at least some idea of where Winifred was now, so the woman was sure that she could go after her later and bring her home on time for Lord Portley-Rind's party. What had happened in the Red Hat Factory to make her and this strange boy run away was what Olive was the most curious about the most at that moment; at least enough that she had made the decision to check out the factory first and find Winifred next. So, with her plan in mind, Olive walked slowly to the factory's main door, unsurprised to find it open as she walked inside.

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><p><strong>Please review, constructive criticism always welcome.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Olive was surprised to find the main room of the factory to be empty of any Red Hats at that moment. Not that the woman wasn't happy to see that, since it meant she got to have a better look about the place without being interrupted for a few moments. Her footsteps do their best to be light, so as to not draw attention to herself to soon. And that seems to work, at least until she walks to the centre of the room, then and only then does the floorboards creek.

Taking a quick step back, Olive looks down at the floorboards that seem so different from the others around the factory. For a moment the woman figures that it is just her imagination that they seem different, until she steps on them again and feels that creek. After a few moments of looking around and stepping on other floorboards, Olive began to hazard a guess that there was something more than just dirt underneath the floorboards in the centre of the room.

To make extra sure however, Olive makes a quick test. In the secret pockets that she had sown into her dresses, the twenty six year old often kept extra needles and thread in there, just in case. She takes out one of the needles, and carefully drops it down the space in between the floorboards. For a few seconds nothing happens, and Olive wonders if her intuition was wrong.

However that flies out the window when the needle suddenly jumped back out from the space in the floorboards, landing nearby. Olive stared over at the needle, feeling scared now that her intuition was not only right, but was even more correct than she really wanted it to be. She looked back down through the floorboards, her voice whispering as quietly as she could manage but still loud enough that someone could hear her from down there.

"Is someone there?"

For a second there wasn't a reply, and then she suddenly hears a voice whisper in a sort of echo, what was quite possibly the weirdest thing to say in the whole situation.

"…Jelly…"

Well, that was certainly not expected.

Olive sits up, her expression contorted into confusion as to what she had heard, but at least it was a confirmation that there was someone down there. After a moment she got back up on her feet, and started to wonder if there was a crowbar or something somewhere that she could use to open up the floorboards and help whoever it was that was stuck under there. However when she turned around to start looking, she ran nearly completely into someone's midsection.

"Miss Trubshaw, what a pleasant surprise," Mr. Snatcher looked down at her from his height, a grin spreading uneasily across his face as she steps back enough so as to not smell the strange scent that was coming off of him. If Olive wasn't on her guard before she definitely was now, her hand gently sneaking to secret pocket she had on the back of her dress. Mr. Snatcher didn't seem to notice though, since he seemed to busy talking.

"Have you been enjoying the Trubshaw baby remembrance?" Whether he was goading her again or not, Olive didn't care anymore. What she did know however, was that she now had the chance to finally let out some frustration the twenty six years old always felt every once a year. Especially since he was the one that brought it up first and not her.

"Usually I hate it when people create a festival and parlor tricks out of the worst day in my life so to answer your question, no I did not enjoy one part of it," Her voice is not restrained like it ever would be in the presence of Lord Portley-Rind and his associates, but for the first time in ten years is defiant and angry. Mr. Snatcher did not seem as though he had calculated this reaction, though quickly covered his surprise with a fake happy expression.

"Really, well that is a shame to hear Miss Trubshaw, truly it is." He tried to move around her so he was behind her, but Olive knew better than to turn her back on him, so instead circled around as he did so they were always face to face, right where she could watch his every move. Her hand stayed in the secret back pocket of her skirts, ready at any moment should she need to defend herself or make a quick getaway from his presence.

Deciding that this conversation was leading nowhere, Olive changed her tact a bit and became a mite more confrontational, squaring her shoulders as she always did when she was ready for a fight, her breath slowing a bit so her heart beat did go to wild in her chest. Mr. Snatcher seemed to notice her change in stance as well, and was now watching her more carefully, though trying not to show that he was on to her.

"What's under these floorboards?" She tried to not let on completely that she knew there was someone under there, since she was worried exactly what would happen to her if she told him. From the corner of her eye Olive could see some more of the Red Hats descending down the steps nearby, which meant that she was now definitely out numbered and should be even more on her guard than before. Mr. Snatcher meanwhile, had been obviously thinking quickly on an explanation to fall back on, and eventually found one.

"Oh, just some machinery we have to help us rid the scourge of the Box Trolls," Of course he was lying, since Olive was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to explain to her why someone was obviously being held under the floorboards, and make it sound actually logical and not at all illegal. Olive nodded carefully in reply, taking another careful and hopefully unnoticeable step back from the Box Troll exterminator and closer to the door out of there. However before she could start mentioning that she wanted to leave, Mr. Snatcher start to go off on another whole conversation that the woman was sure she didn't want to be a part of nor ever suggested that she might be.

"In fact, we are not that far away from wiping out every last one of the Box Trolls that were the cause of your family tragedy, your grievances will be avenged my dear," Olive tried to look pleased at that news, just as she always did whenever someone would tell her that Box Trolls would pay for her loss. But as always, it only made her feel hollow inside. Most of the time she liked to think that she didn't know why, but sometimes she allowed herself to accept what everyone had told her was wrong.

That the Box Trolls weren't responsible for her family's death. Olive had tried, for all her attempts to not be completely abandoned by the society of Cheesebridge, to believe what everyone else did about the Box Trolls, that they were monsters that ate children and parents, and that they needed to be destroyed. But for whatever reason, no matter how many times she heard, how many times she saw the graves of her father and baby brother she visited every Sunday, she just couldn't accept it.

She had seen how the Box Trolls behaved when they were in her home before this tragedy happened, and couldn't still for the life of her accept that they were capable of what they were accused. It confused her so badly, but at the same time she couldn't think of any other reason how this happened, at least not any that could be proven with evidence.

Not that anyone would listen to her, so instead she just swallowed her instincts back and listened as Mr. Snatcher seemed to be drawling on still, what he was saying seeming to go further and further into a completely delusional area.

"And when the filthy Box Trolls are gone, as I am sure you are well aware, I will become a part of the league of White Hats, a gentleman above all others," At first she didn't really get what he was trying to say, since in the beginning it seemed to Olive that he was just repeating himself on facts she already knew. But then, just as he was finished mentioning the fact that he might become a part of the White Hats, just as the silence after he had spoken was about to become noticeable, he did something that definitely caught her off guard.

Mr. Snatcher had grabbed her hand, thankfully not the one that was behind her back that was just touching the secret pocket filled with pins, and dropped to one knee. For a moment Olive just looked back at him, eyes wide in complete disbelief that he would be so forward about such things. Sure she certainly had known of his motives, Olive had known about them from when she was a teenager and had spent the past decade, at least when she was not grieving for the loss of her family, trying to stay away from those motives of the Box Troll exterminator at every opportunity.

The other Red Hats that had appeared from the stairs above were now throwing some kind of confetti, though Olive was half sure that it was actually rice. Meanwhile Mr. Snatcher had started going off on a tangent of his own that seemed a little too well rehearsed for her liking. The first line of which was already enough to stun her into silence as her eyes darted around for an exit route out of this almost confrontational proposition her was giving her.

"And every great gentleman needs a woman by his side, to stand by him in every decision and obey his will-" It struck Olive not to long into his speech that this was actually happening, and it wasn't just some horrid nightmare her mind was sadistically giving her. The woman was starting to wonder if she should just throw the pins in her secret pocket in his face now and start running, but for whatever reason, be it that she wanted to have the last word or if for some reason she was actually expecting Mr. Snatcher to really tell her who or what was under the floorboards, Olive stayed put and got herself that last word.

"Will you do me the honor of being my wife?" For a second Olive was being certain on just throwing the pins now and running, since it would definitely give him the answer she absolutely had to that question. But then again, she would be left with no real answers as to who was under those floorboards or why the strange boy and Winifred had run and been perused by them just a few moments ago. So instead of violently attacking Mr. Snatcher, she instead pulled her hand out of his grip and answered back as emotionlessly as possible.

"Absolutely not," Well she had tried to be emotionless, but it was hard to do that with the memories she had of him threatening her father, threatening her family. The other Red Hats that had been throwing the rice confetti stopped in their actions, now looking uneasily at their boss for what his reaction would be. However Mr. Snatcher's reaction was not one of sadness, embarrassment or even complete anger, instead he seemed more annoyed that she was fighting back against him. Olive didn't give him a chance to speak as he got back on both his legs, her hand pointing directly down to the floorboards nearby.

"I asked what was under those floorboards, and I know you lied so tell me the truth. What is down there?" She took steps back when she saw Mr. Snatcher's expression starting to darken more, one of the other Red Hats, Mr. Gristle (whom seemed to have shaken off his head injury pretty fast), chuckling under his breath. The boss of the Box Troll exterminators was almost snarling now as he answered back to her question.

"Nothing that you need to bother your mind about," Well, that seemed to be the best that she could wrangle out of him for, since at least she knew for certain that he had lied before and trusted her hearing enough to know that there was someone down there. And now it seemed that he had finally managed to reach anger, a point that Olive knew was the best to get away from. Looking quickly to the other Red Hats, the woman got the feeling that since they were a good way up the stairs, that she would at least get a few more seconds to get away than if they were on the ground level with her and Mr. Snatcher.

"Very well, continue to cover it up if you want, but I know there's someone down there, I heard them. And I will be back for them," There was a flash of worry at being found out, before Mr. Snatcher's anger returned in full force. Now that he knew that Olive knew there was someone under the floor of this factory, the woman decided now was probably the best time to make her exit. Manuvering herself so she was now her back was facing the door and Mr. Snatcher was in front of her, she got ready to run.

"Oh I very much doubt that devil woman! I've stepped over Trubshaws to get what I want in the past, I am not above doing so again!"

Olive didn't give herself a moment to wonder what he meant by that, as instead she noticed that the other Red Hats were beginning to slowly descend the stairs. So instead of questioning further, she got herself that last word.

"Not today,"

Her hand moved quick, taking a handful of pins and throwing them directly in his face. Olive didn't bother looking to make sure she had even injured him, instead letting her feet carry her as fast as possible out of the factory and down the street beyond.

The woman didn't look behind her once as she ran, her hearing already notifying her of the footsteps that were in fast pursuit of her every move. Thankfully the woman had managed that day, as she always did whenever she knew that Lord Portley-Rind and his ever watching wife weren't noticing, to where trousers underneath her skirts. That, combined with the fact that she wasn't wearing a corset that day either, managed to grant her more athleticism than she would have with that damned air cutting piece of 'fashion'.

Olive knew she was in control of where the chase would go, and so to make it even slightly harder for them to catch her, and to make sure that none of the Lord and Ladies that judged her safe future as a part of their level in life, saw this exercise, Olive directed the chase into the back streets and alleys of Cheesebridge.

Of course the Red Hats knew the streets of Cheesebridge than anyone, they had been given a decade to know them like the back of their hands while hunting down those Box Trolls, so Olive wasn't completely sure how well this was going to go for her. Which was why as she turned another corner to run down another alleyway, the twenty six year old had started thinking about a place to hide from them while getting her thoughts together on what to do next.

Immediately her mind jumped to the one place she was pretty sure the Red Hats would not follow after her for the life of them, that and she knew that was where Winifred and the strange boy she had run off with, where safe and waiting. So, with this new location in mind, Olive took quick turns and twists down the dark streets, though it was still day light, and made her way towards the closest sewer opening.

A man hole was probably out of the question for entrance into the sewers, the few moments it would take to open it and crouch down to climb down the ladder would have her caught for sure, but that didn't necessarily mean that she was out of options. For instance, the alley way that Olive now had in mind as a destination did have a rather large, gated pipe opening that lead down into the tunnels under ground.

She didn't have a lot of time left, the footsteps behind her never ceasing in growing closer despite her every turn and past attempt to lose them. The pipe was really the only chance she had left to get out of this situation and still have the ability to find Winifred and help that person underneath the floorboards of the Box Troll extermination factory. If she allowed herself to get caught, Olive had a feeling that she wouldn't be going anywhere, ever again.

This thought alone, got her to run just that smallest bit faster towards her new location, trying always to make sure that the Red Hats were behind her, never suddenly in front of her where they could easily have her trapped. So far that had only managed to happen a few times when she wasn't completely focusing on what was in front of her, where thankfully Olive had found a way out at the last second, just scraping past their grabbing hands that wanted to stop her from getting away.

Every nerve end in her was screaming to stop, which made sense since Olive was pretty sure she had done at least three laps of the alley ways and darkened streets of Cheesebridge, and her legs were just begging for a rest. But she couldn't stop just yet, not when there was still a chance for her to get to that pipe opening, which by this point was just ahead of her. With one last burst of her energy that the woman could manage after twenty six years of not really having to run as fast as she did this day, Olive managed to make it to the gated pipe.

It took her a few precious seconds, in which the Red Hats were still running down the other street but were definitely not that far off, for Olive to notice that the gate had a padlock on it. With fast shaking hands, a pin was again pulled out of her secret pocket of her skirt, fiddling in the key hole for a few seconds as she prayed her limited intelligence in lock breaking wouldn't ruin her chances of getting away.

Apparently whatever world creating deity that existed was smiling down on Olive that day, either that or the padlock was so old that it was really that inefficient, since the padlock almost immediately unlocked and fell into her hand. One look back down the street was enough to tell Olive that the Red Hats were close to grabbing her. So, with one quick fluid motion that the woman wasn't completely aware she had the capability to do, she slipped through the gate opening, shutting it behind her and locking the padlock back into place.

Mr. Gristle, the smallest and apparently most animalistic of the Red Hats, was the first to reach the gate of the pipe that stood between him and capturing Olive, grunting furiously as he started to attempt to apparently yank the gate of its hinges. Olive took a step back as she watched him, wondering how long it had been since the man had apparently lost his mind, her hands touching to the cylindrical wall around her for support as she tried to slow her adrenaline filled and frightened heartbeat.

The other two Red Hats that seemed of a sounder mind, that being Mr. Trout and Mr. Pickle, were right behind him and looked somewhat conflicted. Olive knew the look of confliction when she saw it, she wore it herself quite a lot for the past decade, but what it was they were unsure about she wasn't completely sure, but the woman decided to take a chance that they were conflicted in chasing her as she attempted to plead to them. All the while trying to ignore the rather loud attempts of Mr. Gristle to rip the gate covering off the pipe she was hiding it for that moment.

"Just let me go, let me…" Olive felt her lungs burning with the need for her to stop talking there and let some of that precious breath oxygen in, no matter if it did somewhat smell since she was currently standing in an opening to the sewers. This lack of breath was a slight problem to her, since it didn't really give her a chance to give evidence as to why they should let her out of their grasp and face the wrath of their boss. Still, it seemed to be something of an incentive to have the two at least slightly reasonable Red Hats to have a discussion.

"Chasing a young lady through the streets… doesn't really sound like a very good guy sort of thing… does it Mr. Trout?" The tallest of the Red Hats, who also had somewhat slight mouse like features with his noticeable front buck teeth, said as he turned to the almost intentional opposite in appearance partner in Red Hat ownership, who looked just as lost for an answer that would justify what Mr. Pickle had said.

However, Olive did not let herself stay around another second longer to find out what their final opinion of their actions was as Mr. Gristle's violent attempts to rip the gate apart had started to elicit sounds of creaking of metal giving in to his strength. Fearfully she turned and ran further down the pipe, having to duck her head eventually as the pipe grew very slowly yet surely, smaller.

Olive didn't stop her fleeing through the pipe until she was sure that she couldn't see even the smallest indication of the light from the pipe opening anymore, but still she only slowed it to a very fast walking pace. Still, that probably wasn't the best of choices since because the light from the pipe opening was gone; she was stumbling through the darkness with no idea as to where it was leading, though really the final destination could only be better than being caught by those Red Hats, especially Mr. Gristle.

Thankfully, the pipe didn't become too small that she couldn't fit through it when she reached the other side of the pipe. When slowly climbing out of the pipe and to what was on the other side, Olive noted that wherever this part of the sewers was, while it did smell bad, it certainly didn't smell as awful enough to be the part that she suspected. So Olive guessed that where she was now, was either a long forgotten portion of the underground in Cheesebridge, or had something to do with rainwater.

Where the pipe opened up on the other side was darker than before, and was certainly too big to be another pipe, Olive knowing this since she could hear her footsteps and breath echoing even more than it did before in the pipe. There was a possibility that it was the size of an average room, though there was no real way to tell besides stumbling around and feeling the walls. Olive still wasn't completely sure where she was supposed to go next, not that she could see it even if she did know, so she just continued walking.

All around her was almost dead silent, apart from the periodic sounds of water dripping and her own footsteps. It was calming in the fact that she could no longer hear other footsteps behind her, chasing her down with the want to drag her back to that factory, most likely to join that person under the floorboards, which was definitely not something that she wanted to do. What she wanted to do, was find Winifred and that strange boy, however it was only as Olive had entered the underground herself, that she wasn't sure exactly how she was going to find them now.

Certainly this place was a lot darker and possibly bigger than the twenty six year old had given it credit before, and was feeling very foolish in that she didn't decide to follow after the children first before going into that factory, and had assumed that she would easily discover the two children in this rather huge place. But still what the woman had discovered in that factory was well worth the trip, since now there was someone in there being kept possibly against their will, and needed her help, since it seemed that no one else seemingly could or possibly would even if they knew.

If it was anything that the twenty six year old hated more, it was the thought that she could ever have the possibility of doing the right thing, and not doing it. Now that Olive knew there was someone down there, she had to do something about it since the woman knew that otherwise she wouldn't let herself sleep at night. The guilt would keep her awake, as so it should since it was her morals and her way of living that Olive really held up to a high standard.

Olive's thought process was broken with her eyes catching a glint of light nearby, she walked towards it carefully, not sure what to make of it just yet since it didn't look a lot like sunlight from the way it looked and the fact that Olive felt heat the closer she walked. So there was the possibility that it was a fire light, which seemed possible due to the evidence of the sense of heat and the color of the lighting.

Fire lighting could mean permanent living, so as far as the woman knew that she could be either slowly walking towards the Box Trolls 'lair', or where Winifred and the boy where currently staying and possibly waiting for her. Still, Olive knew she couldn't walk away from it because there was a chance that it was one thing instead of the other, so she instead continued to walk towards the fire sourced light; hoping all the while that it wasn't the worst of the possibilities.

As Olive took another step closer towards the light, she felt the ground for some reason go smooth underfoot, and she slipped forwards with a frightened cry that echoed through the underground and back to her. Because the ground was apparently now made of smooth metal, and so because of that Olive was now slipping down the almost slide like ground towards the light she had been trying beforehand to slowly go towards it. Now, she was sliding towards it faster than she would have liked, and had no way of stopping it.

Olive had let out only one frightened cry with slipping forwards, but was now silent as she was gritting her teeth together to harshly to bother making a noise. The slide that was once the ground continued on, eventually twisting into a funnel, the hole down the bottom leading to who knows where, and Olive certainly didn't want to know, as she tried to stop her fast descent down this funnel like ground, wandering what had happened to the usual physics of the world that would not allow for the ground to become like this.

But of course her efforts to stop or at least slow down in her descent failed as she of course fell through that strange funnel like hole and to the world below, her gritting teeth loosening to a frightened cry as she fell, not knowing how this was fall was going to end, if she was going to be seriously hurt, or worse. The fall of course had to eventually end as she landed, but where she landed was not where or how she had ever expected.

For instance, her fall was cushioned rather well, in that it didn't end with her legs broken or something. Olive had squeezed her eyes shut when she had fallen, and took a few seconds after she had stopped before she finally allowed herself to open her eyes to see if she was alright, which thankfully she was, though what she saw that had cushioned her fall so well, confused her for a few seconds before the dots connected in her mind.

Boxes, she had landed on a rather large pile of boxes.

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><p>At first she tried to deny that it couldn't possibly be what she thought it was, but that failed quickly when Olive saw glowing yellow eyes peering out from the holes in the cardboard.<p>

Olive jumped up to her feet the moment she saw it, as if they were a fire that burned her hands, a cry of surprise rather than fear, backing away fast as the Box Trolls tipped their boxes back upright, their heads slowly poking out of the top as they watched her. For a moment nothing happened, Olive just looking back at the Box Trolls and them looking at her.

Nothing happened, as certainly there wasn't any life threatening actions against her, which Olive found she wasn't all that surprised by, which did make sense, since Olive remembered them from her time as a teenager. That time that Olive had at one point tried to deny for the sake of accepting her families death, but eventually accepted that it wasn't false, that the Box Trolls weren't as dangerous as everyone had said before.

"Miss Olive!" The moment was broken by the happy yell of Winifred as the little girl suddenly ran out from seemingly nowhere and attached herself to her nanny's side. Olive naturally hugged the small girl back, of course immediately confused as to why she was here, with these Box Trolls in their 'lair', especially when she had seen her only with the strange boy.

The same strange boy that the woman noticed immediately was standing not that far away.

Her arms wrapped around Winifred that much tighter subconsciously, not sure how to act in this situation so she fell back on being protective of the only child she had left under her care, that she had responsibility for. Olive didn't want anything to happen to Winifred while she was there, didn't want to think that she was helpless to do something or protect this child while standing right there and looking at the danger in the eye.

She had been helpless to protect a child in the past; she didn't want that to ever happen again.

"Winnie, why are you with Box Trolls and a strange boy?" Her question was hushed, hopefully to the point where only the little girl could hear her instead of any of them standing in front of her. The ginger girl broke from the protective hug and rubbed at the back of her neck, taking steps back to the Box Trolls and the boy. Olive knew Winifred was getting ready to explain herself, knowing the physical attitude of this child since the twenty six year old practically raised her, but still Olive felt the prick of fear in her that Winifred was walking closer to what she wasn't completely sure was a safe situation, despite of her morals and past experience telling her that the child would be fine.

"Well…" There was a quick explanation to what happened to her and this boy in the factory, which for one second did not sound the slightest bit safe and only made her want to go back there to wrap her hands around that Mr. Snatcher's throat. However, after a few moments when the explanation was over, the woman noted the expression on Winifred's face, knowing the little girl enough that she was holding something back that needed to come to the woman's attention.

"Winifred Portley-Rind, what aren't you telling me that I need to know?" Olive didn't like to take on the appearance of the disapproving and disappointed adult, having had enough of that in her life herself, even now and she was twenty six. This just didn't seem like the ginger haired girl that Olive had seen throughout her ten years of life, since if Winifred was talking about something, she would spare no details. In fact, sometimes she would go into a little too much detail for the woman's liking.

So what wasn't she saying?

"This is Eggs," Winifred gestured to the strange boy, who looked very awkward and for some reason and ignored the gesture for him to move forward as he seemed a little… scared somewhat of Olive. She was a little confused by his mannerisms, mostly because her memory, experiences, and the fact that he standing right near them, that told her that he was acting a lot like a Box Troll. Why this was, she was pretty sure that it was because he was dressed like one of them and seemed much more comfortable standing by them than by her and Winifred.

"Well he's… the Red Hat's said he…" Winifred trailed off as Eggs seemed to gain some nerve, stepping forward a little bit before he spoke up, though his voice was a little softer than it would be otherwise.

"I'm the Trubshaw baby,"

Olive was usually filled with words, so many things she always wanted to say, or had said or will say. But in this moment, she was completely silent, any thought of any words that could fill this void dropping down into her stomach and causing it to ache so terribly with a hollow pain.

"He's your brother,"

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><p><strong>Please review, constructive criticism always welcome.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys, I'd just like to thank you all for your reviews, it's really helped to keep this story alive for me and try my best to keep up with my updating pace on this story. So anyway, here's yet another chapter, so enjoy!**

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><p>"How dare you,"<p>

Those were the first words that Olive could manage, her voice box now seemingly malfunctioning after hearing what the two children had said to her. Olive's heart meanwhile was both beating faster than a horse's speed limit in anger, yet was frozen in place with sudden fear and confusion. She just couldn't believe what she had heard, so instead Olive immediately rejected every word of it, all her anger from the past decade bursting to the surface with her words before she could really hold it back and control it.

Eggs seemed frightened; certainly the Box Trolls were now hiding in their boxes from her stare. Winifred looked only confused mostly, though there was a small might of fear in her since she had never really seen her nanny this emotional about something other than her safety. The last time she had been that upset, Winifred had run off for a few moments out of Olive's sight. What the child got in reply was an hour's worth of nagging to never do that again. But of course Winifred would do it again; she did it all the time.

"Do you think this is a joke Winifred, because this is so, so hurtful. More than I think you could ever understand," Olive's emotions often ran away from her whenever she allowed herself to feel, so the anger that she had soon evolved back into sadness and before she knew it she was close to tears. Though she would not let those tears fall to where it could be seen, where she could be seen as weak. That was the last thing she needed at that moment, since Olive was pretty sure she had enough on her plate as it was.

"But Miss Olive, he-"

"That's enough Winifred!"

Olive hadn't meant to shout, but all the same felt the woman felt as though she was somehow being attacked. But in reality the only thing that was attacking her was her own mind, one half wanting to reach out and believe, the other half, that over time had become distrustful and angry to the world she had been left in for the past decade, pushed away immediately at every thought that this could be true. Olive was far too bitter from ten years of loneliness to accept this possibility, so she immediately denied it.

The red haired child looked hurt at being so suddenly snapped at, and Olive did feel regret at having done so, but at the same time the woman was angry at the thought of the most tragic moment in her life was once again being apparently made a joke of. This was probably why Olive was not quite done talking herself, letting out maybe a few too many things that maybe Olive had been keeping cooped in her pained heart.

"Isn't it enough… that everyone else up there in that town, has to be so cruel? Cruel enough, that they make a festival day out of the worst moment in my life, you have to do this to?"

There was a sense of resentment that Olive had towards Winifred sometimes that the child would find so much enjoyment in Box Trolls and the festival, the child's avidness for such celebrations being the only reason that Olive was always forced to go. And that was something that always hurt Olive, but all the same the woman kept that to herself, not wanting Lord Portley-Rind or another of the higher ups in Cheesebridge to bother her with how she should not show her upset.

No, she could never be upset, because that was not 'proper' to a woman of Cheesebridge. Olive was only ever told to smile and bear through it, and because she wanted to not be left alone with nothing to depend on to keep her from the dangers of this town that hid during the day time; she would do as they said. Like the good domesticated pet she was forced to be around them, every action done according to them melting away what was the person she had been before.

But down here, Olive was not around the Lords and Ladies of Cheesebridge, She was not obligated to just bear it and pretend that everything was fine when she was falling apart, so the woman didn't bother. It felt liberating, freeing somehow to say what she wanted to say so badly. And really Olive knew that this release of feelings wasn't Winifred's fault at all, neither was it Eggs fault or even the Box Trolls fault, but unfortunately that were here and had to sit through this as she let out all these emotions like a well needed breath of fresh air.

"My brother is dead Winnie; he died just as my father did. I was given the remains to bury, and there are now tombstones with their names on them. They're dead." Tears couldn't be held back anymore, freeing themselves from the trap of her eyelids as the memory of being presented her father and infant brother's remains at seventeen, having to be the one to identify that it was them. Before that point she had liked to think that she was a grown up, but that she was still so young. That day, she realized that she was too young to see this part of the world.

Olive still felt that she was too young now, to know and still see that moment whenever she closed her eyes.

"But it wasn't the Box Trolls that did it," Winifred looked at her hands as she spoke, and Olive felt more regret at the thought that the child was now afraid to look her in the eye. The woman did not want the child to feel guilty about everything she had said, since Winifred had absolutely nothing to do with that. Wanting to comfort her, but knowing that hugging was never really something that the red haired child was okay with, (at least when it was Olive comforting her, she'd do anything for her father's attention), so Olive decided instead to kneel on her level, hand gentle under the cheek so Winifred would look her in the eye while Olive attempted a small smile.

Apparently what the woman said next was somewhat surprising to the Box Trolls and Eggs, who looked somewhat confused. But then again they would be considering that from their view, Olive's emotions seemed to change around a lot, since so far, which was really in only a few moments, she had gone from the emotions of anger, to sadness, then odd calm with tears still falling.

"I always knew deep inside that they didn't, I just knew I could never prove it. And even then, I don't know who did," She didn't really need to further defend herself on that note, it seemed pretty obvious that there was no way for her to be able to tell anyone that the Box Trolls were innocent, even if she had proof of the crime being done by someone else, no one would listen. The fanaticism and prejudice against the Box Trolls by this point had gone on too far and for too long, people of this town was going to need more than just the word of one woman to convince any of them.

"I am the Trubsh- I am your… brother," Eggs also couldn't look her in eye, but on this occasion, mostly because Olive was convinced that she didn't know the boy, she didn't attempt to comfort him and instead looked to the ground herself. Olive felt such a heavy weight on her at this moment, she just wished that it would cut away so she could escape from this situation, but at the same time Olive knew that she had to face this, to either prove him, or herself wrong.

"Prove it," Her voice was so small in that moment, but she was no longer looking at the ground, staring instead into Egg's eyes, as he had also looked up at the same moment. Her heart may be bitter to the idea, but that didn't mean her head still didn't see some logic in the possibility of what he was saying was true. After all, as much as she didn't like to think it, she could see some resemblance of her mother and father in this boy, almost as clearly as she once saw it in herself.

After almost whispering her statement, Olive wandered off a little away from the main group, enough for them to know that she wanted to be alone for a little while. Thankfully they granted this silent request, Winifred and Eggs wandering off elsewhere themselves to talk while Olive felt herself curl into a ball.

Olive felt a sudden hand touch at her shoulder after a while of being alone, and she must have turned a little too quickly as the Box Troll that was the one that had tried to get her attention ducked into hiding inside their box. The woman didn't really raise an eyebrow at their deer-in-the-headlights nature, having known what they were like since she was a teenager and remembering that even back then they would hide whenever she walked into the room too quickly.

The woman looked to the picture on this Box Troll, knowing that it was what their name would be, again having known their nature, and only raised an eyebrow when she saw what the picture that was on the Box Troll. A small smile fought its way across Olive's face at the thought that she had known this Box Troll back when she was a teenager, remembering how they had stolen the meatballs of the table whenever she was cooking for her family. How he had grown on her to the point that she allowed him to take a few meatballs without a comment.

"Hello Fish,"

Small yellow eyes looked back at her through the holes of the box, and she could see a small smile in reply in them. The Box Trolls head eventually poked out from his hiding place so Olive could see that for sure there was a smile of greeting across his face before he started speaking in the Box Troll language.

Olive wasn't completely proficient in the language of the Box Trolls, but was lucky enough that in the time that the Box Trolls visited her father's home, she had managed to pick up a few words from the repetition of them, and sometimes having her father tell her what they meant so that she learned. It had been ten years since then, so some words were lost over time because of her trying to forget those times and also the effects of just plain time passing and her no longer remembering particular things.

So from the very limited education on the language that Olive now had, she was at least able to salvage from Fish's statement that he was telling her that 'Eggs was telling the truth'. Thankfully the prior conversations filled in the many gaps of Box Troll words that she could not translate, so Olive was able to at least reply to his statement.

"I need more evidence than just words Fish. I'm sorry, but it's been too long, and too much has happened for me to just believe words, that my brother is standing right here. I need physical proof,"

The Box Troll now looked lost, thinking that there was nothing other than their word that they had to prove to Olive that Eggs was the brother she had mourned over for the past decade. At least, that was at first, until Fish remembered something that he knew for certain would be able to show what they were saying was true. Without bothering to say another word, the Box Troll suddenly wandered off through the almost cave like environment of their home, Olive watching him for a few moments with a raised eyebrow before falling back into her own thoughts.

Of course Olive had always known inside that the Box Trolls weren't the ones that took her family and old life from her, but what also made her bitter to the world was the thought that she didn't know who might have actually done it. Well, she didn't know for certain, but with every passing year as she felt the same pair of eyes watch her as she matured and grew into a young woman, Olive started to get a very good idea of a certain someone who might have had something to do with it.

But of course now she had practically heard it from the horse's mouth.

Mr. Snatcher's comment earlier that day, on how he had 'stepped over Trubshaws in the past' was starting to haunt her the more she thought about it on her own. She had always had somewhat of a clue that he had something to do with it, what with the memories she had of him constantly harassing her family and threatening her father, and this comment seemed to finally solidify this idea she had concretely. Of course that didn't stop the thought that he had been there, right in the public eye all this time and watching her for all these years, and she hadn't really known it.

It felt at that moment as if he had been silently congratulating himself in watching her self-destruct over something he did to her family, and she didn't even know it. That he had managed to wear the sheep's clothing despite of what she remembered of him as a teenager. It made her feel sad, sick, miserable in that she had all that time to figure it out and failed to do so. But what it also made her feel, was angry. Angry in that even if she had figured it out, that no one would have believed her anyway, just as she had stated before in if she had ever tried to defend the Box Trolls.

No one would have believed her, and he would continue to be there, watching her from a distance.

Her head felt dizzy at so many emotions, so many heart stopping sudden realizations and blooming hopes in her chest building on top of each other. The issue that Eggs could be her brother was conflicting to her enough in how much she wanted to believe it, but at the same time would also have to face that she had missed ten years of his life, nearly all of his childhood gone because of something she couldn't control as she never saw it coming.

What happened that night? It seemed at that moment like it was always going to be a mystery to Olive, something that she would never really know for certain. At least, that was what the young woman thought until she felt the presence of someone standing in front of her, and despite herself and all her fears, looked up to face them.

The first thing she had seen was what was in this person's hands. What this person was holding, was the evidence that they had to prove their claims to Olive as true. But that wasn't even close to being on her mind at that moment, as instead it seemed all her fears and worries about the present faded to the back of her mind as she looked upon this evidence, her thoughts instead being taken back a decade before.

What they were holding, was a small pile of clothes. Small enough for a baby to wear.

This was her baby brother's clothes. Olive knew this, because she was the one who made them.

Her hands were shaking as they took the small green sweater and brown patched pants, holding them closer to her eye level as she looked over every stitch, feeling the sewing pattern she had made all those years ago, feeling her memories replay in her mind like old records she had long forgot and tried to ignore due to the pain it would regularly bring.

* * *

><p><em>Olive remembered that her brother was starting to really outgrow his baby clothes, the small bundle that he had been in the beginning quickly becoming a tiny terror of a more developed baby. The then fifteen year old watched the baby as he attempted to crawl around in his play pen, his tiny hands grasping at the far bigger soft toys that his sister managed to cobble together out of the left over fabric of the seamstresses' that she worked at. He was too small to really hold them, and so instead, for some reason, took to throwing the toys as far across the pen as far as his small arms could manage. <em>

_As she watched her brother play, her hands were gently and slowly sowing heavy green material into a sweater, her expertise of sowing at that time not holding a candle to what they would be later on. Nevertheless as she did this action, Olive was thinking to herself all the while on how the winter was coming very soon and that the small infant was going to need more woolly jumpers and blankets to fight off the cold than what he had now. Her own protection against the winter didn't enter her mind all that much, considering herself shielded well enough from the cold by her trench coat for whenever she went outside._

_Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her father coming home, this action of his always being followed by him loudly proclaiming his entrance through the front door and singing somewhat off-key one of his many favorite songs, whether they be ones of the opera or a barber shop quartet. The baby giggled and squealed excitedly form his playpen as his father picked him up, spun him around before carefully handing the baby to the arms of his big sister, where Olive would then receive a tentative and caring kiss on her forehead from her father. _

_It felt good, Olive remembered, to see her father smiling again after her mother's passing, the teenager thinking before that time, on how he had once been rather silent and unavailable to any attempt of discussion, and how it had made Olive feel a little more trapped in her ways than usual to not have him around as a conversational partner. But at this time it seemed as though he was picking himself back up to the man he had been before, though Olive could still see some sadness in his eyes when he guessed that she wasn't looking. _

_But Olive threw that thought to the back of her mind because at that moment, he was happy, they were all happy. Dinner was made and served, with the usual fascinating conversation flowing between them before finally it got late enough that even the teenager was tired out from the day's efforts. The baby and his big sister were tucked into bed that night, however even as she was sitting in the bed, ready to sleep, she was still working on the small green jumper for her baby brother._

"_It's time for bed now Olive," Herbert Trubshaw hummed softly to his eldest child as she eventually yielded to his wish for her to finally rest and laid down to sleep, the father gently taking her work from her hands an laying it carefully on the bedside table nearby, but of course not before he took a quick look over the definitely above amateur stitch work that the fifteen year old was capable of at the time, his expression beaming with pride as he gently tucked her in (despite the teenager's argument that she was too old to be tucked in, since he knew that deep down she enjoyed these moments she got to have with him)._

"_Truly wonderful work Olive, you're really learning the tools of your trade," Most other people of the town, that for some reason felt their opinion important on her families lives, had tried to remark to her father in the past on how encouraging her career as a seamstress was bound to have her forever unmarried, and at the time Olive was sad to state that she was worried he's agree with them and change his mind. But of course, he never did and instead continued to be proud of her work no matter what he heard whispered about him behind his back._

_But that was not what was causing the fifteen year old at the time to sigh in almost worry at his praise. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the encouragement, quite the contrary, it was more that she didn't believe that for herself._

_See, the family line of Trubshaw had always had somewhat of a proud reputation of being thinkers and problem solvers, from professors to inventors there was always a story to tell, so it made for quiet the interesting history. Olive was worried, because of her chosen career that she was passionate about, in what it was and the fact that she didn't think herself all that good at it. This was a rather sore topic that she didn't bring up with her father all that often, in fact she did her best mostly to guide away from it. However, she was never very good at keeping her emotions to herself as he managed to see what it was that was making her sigh so sullenly._

"_Olive, you don't have to prove yourself to anyone but you. Hats, boxes, sowing needles, they don't mean anything if you think they can change who you are. You make you," He said this a lot, practically whenever Olive felt down in that she couldn't do something right for someone else's benefit. It always made the teenager feel better inside, but only for a little while since for whatever reason, she never could really fully believe in that. Possibly because despite of that advice, Olive would always continue to try and make others happy before herself. _

"_Goodnight sweetheart," With that last word, her father quietly walked out of the room, pausing only to switch off the light. Olive laid awake in the dark for a moment, before turning over to look at her baby brother sleeping in the cot just by her bed. Her thoughts had wondered back to him, but this time weren't about how he might be cold in the winter if she didn't make more jumpers, instead they looked a bit more forwards into the future that she wondered and worried that he might have._

_She worried that the people that looked down on her now, that chastised her every move and tried more than once to educate her father on how to raise her so she was a good wife someday, would turn on him in much the same way. Olive fretted what he might face, and at what age it would start for him, since the chastising began as mostly whispers for her when she just began to reach ten years old. Would he be older when it would be his turn, or younger? _

_What were they going to expect from him? What were they going to do when they figured that he wasn't meeting those expectations? Was it going to be anything like the heated glares and nasty words Olive received, that more often than not were delivered to her face with the shield of a 'well-meaning' smile? And more importantly, how was he going to react to all that, how strong would he be in the face of it?_

_Olive knew that if it wasn't for her father and his strength, she would not be able to fight back against them and would instead bow to their very expectation and whim. It was her father's presence that made her stronger, and also made her certain that if her brother ever faltered under the gaze of society's anticipations, that both her, and her father would be there for him for every step that he needed them. _

_They could tear her down all they liked, just as long as it left her brother always standing tall in the face of adversity, ready to fight back and say who it was he wanted to be. All this certainty, Olive reflected to herself, and he was barely even a year old. The then teenager turned in her bed so she was now facing the bedside table, where the nearly finished green sweater was sitting, just waiting to be finished._

_With a new sense of enthusiasm that Olive wasn't quite sure from where it had come from, she sat up in her bed and carefully collected the half done sweater, feeling the familiar cold of the meal sewing needles in her nimble and precise fingers as the thread went in, and out. The pattern continued on as for a time there was nothing else in Olive's world except the contents in her hands, and the small snores of the baby sleeping nearby._

_The sweater was done by the morning, and Olive for a time felt better because of it._

* * *

><p>"Oh my god," Other than that exclamation, Olive's voice was now lying dead in her throat, the surprise and shock as facts finally clicked into her mind having killed it away to silence. Her hands were shaking as her world became nothing more for those few moments than the contents that were about to fall through her fingers. But of course she didn't allow it to, instead holding onto even tighter.<p>

It seemed as though she had let more than enough slip through her fingers for the past decade.

Her gaze remained on the sweater for so long that when Olive managed to find the strength to look up who it was that had handed her these long forgotten items, her neck cracked in a way that made it feel ancient, as if she had been carrying quite the mighty weight on her shoulders, which wasn't exactly untrue. Now, when she looked up, instead of feeling pain, Olive felt some of that weight fall away and collapse into the dust it had always been.

When she looked up, she met Egg's gaze as he stared back at her.

"Winnie says… that you're my sister," Olive seemed to finally really see Eggs as he was talking, and was now so confused as to how she could ever try to deny that he was her brother. He looked so much like her father, at least like her father did when he was Egg's age in the photos she had managed to save. A hand fell away to one of her secret pockets, where instead of the others which held emergency sewing supplies, had a photo instead.

Olive pulled out the photo, looking down at it for a moment, feeling the long held back nostalgia flood through her veins before remembering that Eggs was looking to, and carefully handed it to him to hold. The slight touch of their fingers meeting as she passed the photograph making her heart nearly break. The woman wanted nothing more than to just hug him close to her, for him to somehow feel the emptiness that was once in her heart, slowly filling back up again.

But Olive wouldn't do that to him, sensing that the boy was a little cautious of her, unsure of whether or not she was actually safe. And as much as that hurt inside, at the same time she understood where he was coming from, especially since Olive had given him plenty of reasons to be hesitant about her, what with her rather emotional and possibly frightening moment just before, which the woman felt rather embarrassed about now that she looked back on it, but then again that was a lot of emotions that she had been bottling away for ten years.

Eggs was carefully inspecting the photograph in his hands, holding it much like she always did, as if it were made of glass and could shatter in his fingers at any moment. The picture was taken during a cheese fair that Olive and her father had gone to, the small baby that Eggs once was going along with them. And so they were the focus of the photograph, just the three of them on the last family outing they would ever have.

The photograph was of the three of them, her father standing over the teenager Olive, a careful and caring hand on her shoulder as she held her brother in his arms. Their smiles then were genuine, a feeling that Olive had long since forgotten the sensation of, having spent the past ten years smiling when she only ever felt hollow inside. On this occasion however, as she looked back at the brother she had long thought dead, the smile that found its way across her expression was definitely real.

"Is this our father?" Eggs' voice was so small at that time, but still Olive had to fight off the need to comfort him, instead just nodding carefully in reply. The young boy eventually, and very slowly, moved to sit down next to the woman, his hands still carefully holding the last picture that was taken of their family before it was ripped apart. Thinking about it caused the ever familiar sting in the corner of her eyes, as before Olive could hold herself back she let her question slip.

"Do you know… wh-what happened to him, where he is?" Olive used present tense in the last part of her question as her hopes climbed higher than really should have been allowed. The woman wanted this to be like a dream come true where her father was also here, just waiting for her around the corner where they could all be a happy family again. But when Eggs finally replied, the hopes she allowed to soar to such highest, flew to close to the sun and burned up almost instantly.

"The Red Hats killed him,"

Her lip trembled, an action Olive didn't bother to hold back as her hands moved to cover her face as the woman felt herself break all over again. And yet, unlike ten years ago, she couldn't allow herself to just fall into grief, because as much as she wanted to think that this was a complete shock, it just wasn't. Olive had always had a feeling that Mr. Snatcher had something to do with the tearing a part of her family, in fact he had almost practically admitted to it just recently.

Olive had always had an inkling, something in the back of her mind that made her doubt the story that the Red Hats had told her and the rest of Cheesebridge. It was because of that lingering doubt and other factors that Olive couldn't allow herself to just fall apart all over again. The other factors being that she had already allowed herself to break to pieces earlier today, there was no need to do it again. And, she was also sitting next to her long lost brother, and really if anything he must be having a rather terrible and life changing day as well, so there was no need to dump this on top of it for him.

So, with every ounce of inner strength that she could manage to find at that time, Olive moved her hands away and breathed carefully until sobs no longer interrupted the process. There was strength in her, left behind from her father, and the woman would be damned if she wasn't going to use it. Besides, there was something else that needed to be asked now that Olive felt as though she had all the answers to her family's current state.

"What happens now?"

Eggs didn't allow for the conversation to fall into silence much like Olive would have in his place, instead going on to describe exactly what had happened for him that day, the woman finally getting to discover what had happened for him and Winifred in that factory before she had arrived. What she heard wasn't surprising, but that didn't mean it didn't make her blood boil to a certain degree, especially since it was a scenario that had placed her only brother and the child that had been under her care since she was an infant.

Well, at least it explained, in a small way anyway, exactly how and why Mr. Gristle had been flying out the window as she had seen before she entered the factory herself. But it wasn't Egg and Winifred's daring escape that her brother seemed all that interested in telling Olive about really, despite the woman's rebuttals in that being told exactly what happened, in order to make sure that her brother and Winifred had escaped completely unscathed.

"Before we managed to get out of the factory, the Red Hats opened up some kind of workshop that was underneath the floorboards, and all the Boxtrolls that were taken are under there-"

Olive didn't really think much on interrupting him, though if it had been anyone else the woman would have been immediately apologetic. But in any case Olive interrupted him as she talked about her own experience in the factory, decidedly leaving out the proposal that still made her stomach churn sometimes.

"I heard a voice under those floorboards when I was there, but it didn't sound like a Boxtroll," Eggs raised his eyebrow at this added information, before reaching a sudden memory of his own to build on top of that.

"I think… I saw someone with the Boxtrolls that were being held down there, but I didn't get a good look at them…" Olive nodded softly, delving mostly into her thoughts on the fact that some other poor soul had been dragged into this mess as well. Someone that along with the Boxtrolls needed to be saved from whatever it was that the Red Hats were planning to use them for.

"Winnie says that her father can help us fight against the Red Hats, to show everyone that they're not monsters," Olive couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this sudden proclamation that Eggs had made, unable to stop the cynicism that instantly flowed through her mind at the thought that Lord Portley-Rind would help anyone but himself and his white hat. Still, with the look of such hope that was now brightening her little brother's face, she didn't have it in her to shoot him down.

Eggs stood back on his feet, looking back down at the photograph in his hands before carefully holding it out for her to take it back, a question following quickly behind it. For a moment, Olive had to admit that she faltered, unsure on her answer for what it could mean for her and Egg's future should what he was proposing fail. But that was only for a few seconds of being unsure as she instantly then reminded herself that this was her brother, and she would do anything for her family.

"Will you help us?"

Olive carefully took the photo back, hiding away in the secret pocket of her skirts once more before smiling back at Eggs, her answer already certain to him before she even said. He knew this as he could almost read it immediately in her smile.

"Yes, I'll help you,"

Again Olive wanted nothing more than to hug her brother, but still knew that he wouldn't be comfortable with that, so she settled on the fact that he was here, and was smiling so gratefully at her. This moment was enough to her, it definitely felt that as a memory it would be enough for quite few years if she was ever found herself to be alone again. Nevertheless, Olive felt this almost blissful certainty that she wasn't going to really be alone again.

This moment was interrupted however, by the sudden arrival of Winifred, who entered in much like she was best known to do anything with her personality, which was quick with a side of bossy brashness that she never seemed to be able to tame for the sake of politeness. Olive didn't feel the energy to reprimand her for that and so instead just took a quick breath to ready herself for the child's demands.

"We could go to my daddy's party tonight to convince him Eggs!" Eggs looked somewhat apprehensive, yet still enthusiastic to take action. However a few seconds after she had spoken, Winifred seemed to actually take in the boy's full appearance for the first time since meeting him, and unintentionally wrinkled her nose in a fashion that one would when smelling something rather bad and not wanting to say so out loud.

"Well… Miss Olive we may need to make Eggs a suit to wear…" Before she could help herself, a large excited smile crossed Olive's face as her hand moved to the secret pockets of her skirts, pulling out a rather long thread and needle, ready for use. Winifred smiled back at her, Eggs meanwhile looking somewhat confused before becoming a slight bit mortified when the small red haired child turned back to him.

"Okay, first things first, time to lose the box,"

Oh this was going to go just swell, Olive could just already tell from her brother's mortified expression.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review, constructive criticism always welcome. <strong>


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